Brüder
by FromPrussiaWithLove
Summary: It started in 1933, when the Third Reich invaded its own country. It's 1939. The Führer has been granted 'appeasement,' but everyone knows there's a war brewing behind the facades. Two brothers share their story and their insignificant involvement in the war that disgraced the world. Full summary inside. Germancest. Please Review.


**Brüder.**

**Summary:** It started in 1933, when the Third Reich invaded its own country. It's 1939. The Führer has been granted 'appeasement,' but everyone knows there's a war brewing behind the facades. Two brothers share their story and their insignificant involvement in the war that disgraced the world. Aside from being German, neither of the characters represent a country in this story.

**Rating:** M, Germancest and violence.

**Disclaimer:** All lyrics from "Brothers" (also known as "Untitled 3") and "aloC acoC" belong to Brand New. Prussia, Germany, Germania, and all other personfied countries belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

**1939, Gilbert.**

_So the air's getting colder_

_And the news keeps us scared_

We sit in silence; Bruder und Vati are reading the newspaper, while Mutti anxiously washes the dishes. A sharp sound of breaking glass is heard along with her sobs; I walk over to the sink with a fake smile. Mindlessly, I wash the dishes and watch Vati's face contort into anger. He's retired, so the military will come for his boys, make us bear Hitler's iron cross and Hakenkreuz. Within the past year, the crazed Führer has seized Austro-Hungarian lands, claiming he was uniting the Germanic people, and the Allies let him go. Now, rumors are surfacing about another war that will consume the world. Bruderlein and I were born after WWI, so we don't know war. We know poverty and inflation though and grew up watching Vater unser slave away to have his cents of hard labor given to the Allies as collateral for 'Germany's' war. They say WWI was a loss for everyone, so why did Deutschland have to take the fall?

I'm only nineteen; Bruder is eighteen. Autumn is blowing into the country, and we have never had any intention of joining the military. They draft you no matter what though.

"Vati, do you really think he'll invade Polen?" Bruder asks.

"Ja, the schwein invaded his _own_ country; invading another won't be a problem." Vati hisses.

"Why are you ma–?"

"Because _we're _in the _draft_." I remind. The room falls silent again, but we can hear Mutti cry in the other room.

_We'll still wrestle this summer_

_With bones of our tired, blistered hands_

War or no war, our family will be together in the end. With my crazy luck, I could take a bullet for Bruder and walk home the next day, but to assure his safety, I want him off the field, no war front. If one of us _has_ to die, it will be me. It'll be over by next summer, and we'll all be back to the way we were. Bruder and I wasting free time in bars and wrestling because we act like we're five when bored enough. Lately, we don't talk; it's like the only thing that matters is the imminent war.

**1939, Ludwig.**

_'Cause tonight we got drinks_

_With just a couple of friends_

_And the girl that my brother likes_

_Is finally talking to him_

It's August 20th, 1939, and the rumors are hard to ignore now. The theories of invading Polen are getting specific, with a date set and everything. Bruder dragged me out for beers; it may even be our last. We walk through the doors of the bar, and our friends are there as well, just like us, enjoying their last drinks before war. We sit at the bar and are greeted with drinks provided by Fynn.

"Drinks are on me." He offers. "Might as well enjoy a beer before I get sent out to die, ja?"

"A bit exaggerated." Bruder points out. "We won't die; it'll last a year. Then we'll all be home." Fear wavers in his voice though.

"You think so?" Leon asks curiously.

"I do." Bruder informs triumphantly, but his red eyes look hollow.

"Well, we'll see next year, ja?" Axel asks.

"True." Elizaveta agrees from behind Bruder.

"Elizaveta?" Bruder's eyes are wide; he's liked her for a long time. However, she's always around that stupid pianist that he hates, so they never talk.

"Hi, Gilbert." She purrs.

"Hallo." A smile is pulling at his lips. "Where's the aristo-ass?"

"He's at home, sick."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It's okay; it's more fun when he doesn't mope around everywhere I go." She smiles.

"I'll say."

_And his chest is all swelled_

_Like he's proud and happy  
Like he's got a great idea_

_Like he's making a memory_

I watch the rest of the banter as I drink my beer. Maybe he's right, and we'll be back here by this time next year, or better, there isn't a war at all. He's proud of himself, but it's strange. It's like he's treating this like it's the last time he'll ever be this happy. His eyes still look pained, but he's having the time of his life. At least, it looks that way. Leon's rubbing Bruder's head as a reward for kicking Fynn's ass in an arm wrestling match. Elizaveta's hands are on his arm, and he's got a stupid smile glued to his face. Fynn walks over to me and makes a gesture, suggesting an arm wrestle. I comply; he's scrawny and always loses. I rest my elbow on the bar, and he does the same. We grab each others hand, and Bruder shouts for us to start. It's obvious who's going to win, but Fynn just keeps trying to push my arm against the wood, even though his hand is hovering an inch or two off the wood itself. This isn't really hard, but for his sake, I pretend to struggle.

"Come on Bruder, kick his ass...or arm...whatever, just do it!" Bruder cheers. Everyone knows that Fynn had no chance, so might as well just beat him already. I add a little more force into my push, and Fynn's arm smacks the bar's wood. "Exactly, don't mess with the Weillschmidts,"

"Good job, Fynn." I shake his hand. Bruder's doing what we all should be doing, just in case. He's making a memory of this moment, but I guess he does that all the time. He hangs his arm over my neck and pulls my head down to the level of his head.

"With us on the force, we'll be home by next year, no problem!" He smiles.

**1939, Gilbert.**

_Wake up and come out to the car_

_There's an east swell coming, and it's howling off shore._

So the rumors were truths, and September 1st, the Führer invaded Poland. Now, we're all brought out into the war, that no one wanted part in. The deal is join the military or be put in a camp for 'treason.' No thought was required when Bruder and I walked out with the officers into the military issued car, and as hard as we tried, we still heard Mutti's sobs from inside the house. As ridiculous as it seemed to us, we were her boys, and it must have torn at her heart to watch us walk away to war. I watched the buildings pass by as we raced to the headquarters, where they gave us uniforms and told us to follow the others. Uniforms, I don't mind iron crosses; I wear one all the time. The Hakenkreuz was hard to wear, but I can't find out why. I slip on the leather gloves, pull back my hair, and place the military cap over my head. We're not Germans; we're Nazis. We walk with the others to an auditorium-like room, when I spot a superior officer.

_And we'll be lying like lions out in the sands_

_But I'll be dead, before you put a gun in my brother's hands_

"Sir," I try to get his attention.

"It's General Schafer." He corrects. "Oh, you're one of the new kids."

"Ja, Herr." I look at my feet.

"So what is it, kid?" He sneers.

"I, um, I know this is a futile request, but I was wondering if you could keep bruderlein off the war front?"

"Are you asking me to let him go home?"

"Nein, just don't put him on the field with a gun in his hands, bitte."

"And who are you?"

"Gilbert Weillschmidt, Herr." I straighten my back.

"Ah, Alaric's boy, ja?"

"Ja."

"Where is that old man?" He looks around.

"Retired, he injured his knee fairly bad in WWI, Herr."

"Interesting, didn't even know he had kids or a wife for that matter."

"Ja, well, can you keep my brother from getting shot?" He's kind of evading my question which is pissing me off.

"I can send him to be a guard at a concentration camp, but you will be on the field with no questions. Otherwise, I'll bring your brother back and send him out with no weapon on the field."

"Fein, I will do whatever to assure his safety." Schafer smiles.

"Good, now let's get to that assembly." He walks towards the room, and I follow. Just to assure that one brother goes home, he'll be safe being a guard at a camp, as horrible as they are. He'll be safe, and that makes me happy. I sit in the room next to Bruder and mindlessly listen to the speeches from the superiors. General Schafer stands at the podium.

"Now, I've been watching some of you men and realized that _some_ of you aren't cut out for the war front, and besides, we need guards for our camps anyways." I can hear everyone looking around and whispering to one another. Schafer points towards Bruder. "You."

"Herr." Bruder stands up nervously, saluting like a true soldier.

"You're one of the men that I want off the war path." He hesitates a bit.

"Vas?" He hisses. "If I may ask, Herr."

"You strike as someone with a soft heart, and combat isn't for people like that." Bruder sits down as Schafer picks out numerous recruits that just weren't cut out for war. Bruder sighs in disappointment that he was one of the few people that was ruled out; I pat his shoulder to comfort him. He squeezes my arm to comfort me because he knows within the next week I'll be in gunfire and he'll be the equivalent of a prison guard. The war has started, and we are but a tiny part of it.

**1939, Ludwig.**

_So we make jokes back at home  
And we lighten the mood _

_But growing up my parents saw  
What sending a kid to fight can really do _

A guard at a concentration camp? How pathetic is that? Now, it's only a few days before Bruder and I leave home. We catch a ride home from Fynn, but when we walk up to the house, neither of us can find the reason to knock. The door opens, and Vati hugs us close.

"Come on, Vati, it's fine; Bruder's only a guard." Bruder tries to joke.

"Vas?" Vati stares at Bruder.

"Mein kleiner Bruder is going to be guarding one of the new concentration camps, so he's safe."

"Go tell Ihre Mutter, now!" Vati commands. We walk into the house, which feels awkward and not like nach Hause at all. Bruder runs upstairs to tell Mutti the 'good' news. I sit at the table, unbutton my jacket, and place it on the back of my chair. Smile, because if you don't everyone remembers the imminent terror that comes within the next week.

"Is it true?" Mutti dashes into the room, wrapping her arms around me.

"Ja," I smile.

"Bruder's too much of a pussy to be a man of war." Bruder jokes, avoiding the next topic: _he's_ going to _war_.

"Gilbert, I have to talk to you, alone." Vati motions for Bruder to follow him.

"Ja?" Bruder follows him.

"Ludwig, you need to realize how lucky you are." Mutti mentions.

"I do." I look at my hands; I can hear her sobs. I can't imagine how hard it is to even think that your first son is going to put his life on the line for a crazy man with too much power.

"Your father has experienced war before, and he's had nightmares for so long because of it. You should think about what your brother is about to go through."

"I know what he's about to go through, and I just _wish _I could be by his side." I don't want to say it aloud, but Bruder doesn't really make the smartest choices.

"Just remember that you're not a monster."

"Why would I think that?"

"War makes you do stuff that you'll regret."

**1939, Gilbert.**

_Now with the war I can tell they're a little shook up  
'Cause just a few mother's sons will never really be enough _

Vati looks at me gravely, then holds his head in his hands. His breathing is loud and stressed; I pat his arm gently. He runs his hand through his hair which he recently hacked short. He seems to be considering what to say or how to say it. Something shines on his cheek; is he _crying_? He mouths what looks like 'why?' I attempt to comfort him, but I, myself, am at a loss for words as well.

"Gilbert." His voice wavers.

"I know; I know. I got General Schafer to make sure Ludwig wasn't going to fight." I hold my head in my hands.

"Vas? You convinced Schafer? How?" He demands from me.

"I made a deal." My hands tug at my hair, stressed over where the deal may lead.

"What was the deal?" His eyes are burning through my head.

"I do whatever I'm told, but if I don't, Ludwig gets sent in front of the Allies' front lines without a weapon... I won't let that happen though. He's not going to even _touch_ a damn gun this _whole_ war."

"I brought you in here to talk about what _you_ are about to go through." He's still staring. "Do you know what to expect?"

"Gunfire, injury, death for someone I know."

"It will be harsh; I still can't forget the trauma of the previous war..."

"You don't have to talk abou–"

"I _do_! I don't want mein Sohn going into Hell without prior knowledge of what's waiting for him! People stab you in the back; your friends' blood will be on your hands, as well as yours on theirs. You won't gain a single thing; all you can do is lose. You risk yourself for your country, and you won't leave until you're dead or knocking on death's door." He pauses to breathe, level his head. "But thank you, for keeping your brother safe...Because the military can never have enough children in its wars."

"I'll come back, alive." I assure.

– –

Hours have passed, and unsere Eltern are fast asleep. My feet slowly pad across the cold hard wood floors to Bruder's door; when he opens his door, I can't stop myself from kissing him. This may be the last time that I get to touch him, kiss him, fuck him. He backs into his room, and I follow, closing the door behind me. He pulls me onto the bed with him, pulls off his shirt, and tears at mine. I kiss him, and my heart sinks at the idea that I may never get to do this again. His hands touch my chest, as I kiss his neck, jaw, and collarbone. He undoes his belt and slips down his pants, but in the end, I couldn't have sex with him. I wanted to, but the tears on my face cried otherwise. In all truth, I suppose, I just wanted him to hold me. Hold me one last time because I'm scared.

"Bruder," he whispers.

"Ja," I reply.

"It's okay, if you want to have sex." He kisses my lips. "After all, let's enjoy everything before we have to leave."

"Nein, call me a Muschi, but I just wanted to spend the night with you, not sexually." I lie down next to him.

"I'm going to miss you."

"We'll see each other soon; you just wait." I feel sick.

"I wish I could be by your side through it all."

"Nein, you shouldn't _touch_ a gun. I'll get my hands drenched in blood, but you should stay innocent." He pulls me into his arms.

"The camps aren't innocent either."

"Less traumatic, which is good."

"We leave tomorrow."

"I know."

"Egal was, Ich liebe dich, Bruder." He rests his chin on top of my head.

"Ich liebe dich auch." These are the times that make leaving hard, but tomorrow is when we leave and pray to Gott im Himmel that we see each other.

**1942, Gilbert.**

_Not till half our names are etched out in the wall_

I've met people, which is comforting, until they get gunned down and end up screaming for a medic, so for the past three years, which have felt like centuries, Fynn, Leon, and I have had each others backs. Luckily, we've survived so far, but now we're fighting our way to Stalingrad. The Crimean Peninsula was hell, less soldiers to march to Stalingrad, yet the superiors still push us, even though we're probably going to lose. Also, with the take over of the Crimean Peninsula, we've been fighting our way to Stalingrad which isn't really fun, efficient, or smart. I've made it this far, and I haven't opened my mouth in a year. I feel as if when I do Bruder will be on the front, so my mouth has stayed shut, not that the superiors complain. We set 'camp' and eat 'dinner.'

"And you said this Scheiße would only last a verdammt year!" Fynn points at me, and I just nod.

"Fynn, leave him alone. Besides, accusations don't work on him; he hasn't talked in a a year and half." Leon reminds; I just look at my food.

"Whatever, that general's gonna march us off until we all die. It's a death march if you ask me!"

"Calm down." Leon seems to be so nonchalant about this.

"How can you say that?"

"No matter how much Scheiße you say, we're still going to fight ourselves to death." He finishes his food and lies down in his makeshift bed contraption. "Besides, after all I've done, I can't wait to meet Gott im Himmel or Der Teufel in der Hölle. I'm just sick of gunfire and screams."

"So, Gil, you ever gonna open that big mouth of yours again?" Fynn stares at me. I shake my head. "Why not?" I shrug my shoulders. "And here I thought that would get you to talk." He tries to joke; no one laughs. This isn't a place for laughter. The silence consumes the rest of the night; then, it's back to gunfire and death for us.

**1942, Ludwig.**

_And the other half ruined from the things we saw._

Three years, one thousand one hundred ten days, since I was home, happy even. It was only supposed to last a year; then, we'd be home again. Or so we all thought. Well, I guess here, only I though that. This repulsive place, where you smell burning flesh every night and spend everyday terrorizing people and smelling burning flesh. War wasn't a place for the kind heart? Neither is here; people beg for mercy, but you still have to beat them, starve them, _kill_ them. Some guards enjoy it, but I find it repulsive, in every way. I've been told snippets of what the military is going through. Invading Stalingrad, Bruder's there.

"Weillschmidt, let's go; you're in charge of roll call!" A man named Schwartz demands from the door.

"Ja," I pull on an overcoat; it's freezing out. The coat makes me feel like a douche though. I have a coat; they have no coat, just rough, striped uniforms. He walks out of the building first, and I follow. Four in the morning, and they're all standing here, dead silent, cold, and even _dead_. The Appellplatz is littered with the dead, and the living stare through hollowed eyes that can no longer fear at me. Rows of ten spaced out just enough to feel vulnerable, the poor souls stare at their friends on the ground at my feet, cold and lifeless. If I had the choice, I would speak out, but that's treason which means death. I swore to Bruder that we would meet again. So, I swallow my words and do as told. I watch the kapos and Blockalteste count the people.

"Stupid Scheiße." Schwartz hisses under his breath. "Gute Erlösung." I just watch the privileged inmates count the campers and the campers stand, except for the few that drop dead. After this, I have to go out to watch the prisoners and campers manufacture ammunition and sew uniforms. The Blockaltestes walk up to Schwartz and I, dragging along the dead bodies, no respect for the dead... "Get to work you lazy Schwein!" All of the living run off the Appellplatz to their respective places.

"Well, see you at evening roll call?" I bid Schwartz goodbye.

"Ja." He turns left; I go right. Ice cold raindrops begin to fall all around me as I make my way to the factories; I pity the ones who have to work outside.

"Guten Morgen." I greet the other guard, Amsel.

"If you even think about letting a slacker off today, I'll beat _your_ ass!" He sneers.

"Ja, sorry." I watch the Jews assemble things as fast as they can

"The guy on the far left is slacking off or better yet, dead." He points at the guy. "Go check it out." I walk over to the small work station. "And if he's slacking off, give him a reminder of what happens when he stops working and why he's here!" My stomach flips; you'd think after three years of this I would have a hardened heart. Yet, here I am, nervous. I get to the work station.

"You!" I address the slacker. He stares at me with wide eyes filled with fear, a new guy. "Why aren't you working?"

"I'm exhausted." He mutters. I can feet Amsel's eyes on me.

"Es tut mir leid..." He looks confused as I raise my hand. Just a punch in the face isn't good enough discipline, but I don't want to continue.

"Ihm einen Arschtritt verpassen! He's sabotaging us!" Amsel demands. I regret all these acts as I beat this helpless man, who is here because of his faith. I feel Amsel grab my arm. "Verdammt, Weillschmidt, don't kill the poor Schwein."

"Entschuldigung." I sigh.

"Scheiße, Weillschmidt! Restrain yourself." He reminds; I guess I just zoned out as I hit the poor man. Maybe I was angry though, not at the man, but at the fact that this war has lasted so long. "Get back to work!" Amsel and I begin to patrol the factory. Hours pass; Amsel regretfully reminds me that the campers get a small fifteen minute break to do whatever. Amsel grabs my shoulder. "I know that we may not seem close because we're only on a last name basis, but what the hell was that back there?"

"I don't know." I sigh. One thousand, one hundred, ten days.

"Well, watch it. We can't take anymore dead people. Who would make our uniforms then?" He jokes. This isn't a place for laughter though.

**1942, Gilbert.**

_Wake up and come out to the car_

_There's an eat swell coming, and it's howling off shore_

Gunfire, I have Fynn to my left and Leon on my right. I hear the thud of a body on my left; Fynn is on the ground bleeding out his chest, gasping for air. I press my hand to his chest trying to stop the excessive blood flow. I'm not successful, but I can't just give up. A hand grabs my arm and yanks me away.

"Let's go! He's not gonna make it, so make sure he didn't die in vain!" Leon yells, firing at Allied power soldiers. I nod morosely. We live by killing others, a sad existence, but I've lived this long. "Scheiße!" I turn to find Leon on the ground with his hand covering his shoulder. "Shoot the verdammt bastard!" I do as told and tend to Leon. He's just one more bloodied body to this mess of land. I attempt to stop the blood, and it works. Leon staggers up slowly, picks up his gun, and winces at the pressure on his shoulder. We continue to fight; if we don't, we die. We advance as commanded. Then a searing pain burns through my thigh sending me to the ground, I look at my leg, bleeding. "Verdammt!" Leon rips off a part of his shirt to create a bandage, and he applies pressure to the wound before he begins to wrap it. He wraps the wound in tight, precise bandaging. He opens his mouth to say something when something hits his head, and blood spatters my face. His body falls onto me, blood gushing out of his head. The most horrible thing is that I can hear him gasping as if it could save his life. His hand grips my uniform, but slowly, his grip loosens, as his blood coats my uniform. I slip him off of me and try to stand, without success. The bandage that was previously wrapped is drenched red, so I rip it off. My vision slowly becomes fuzzy, then fades to black. I wake up in a white room and sit up. It's silent, peaceful compared to the field. An officer walks into the room, and I just stare at him.

"Weillschmidt." He addresses me, but I don't even know his name.

"Herr." I salute from the bed.

"You've been shot, and we found you underneath Friedmann's body."

"Vas?"

"Leon Friedmann is dead." My memory fills with thoughts of blood on my clothes and Leon's body on my chest. Half his face is blown off, exposing his skull; his grey matter is on me. "Weillschmidt!"

"Entschuldigung..."

"We're sending you to Auschwitz to be an officer while your leg heals. Your brother's there; won't that be a fun reunion?" The man leaves, chuckling to himself.

"Herr Weillschmidt?" A nurse asks cautiously from the door.

"Ja?" I stare at her as she approaches the bed.

"We have Leon Friedmann in the other room, with the others that have passed. If you'd like to pay your respects, I have this cane to help with your limp." I take the cane and slowly make my way off the bed.

"Danke," I grab the military jacket off of the chair, pull it over my shoulders, and button it up. She rests her hand on my arm to lead me to the room. The room is white, with white walls, white bedsheets, white hospital gowns. I look around the room and spot Fynn. There's a man with a box with medals. I pick up two, place one on Fynn's chest, walk over to Leon, and place the other medal on his chest. Half his face is in gauze to hide the distasteful gore of his death.

"There's a car waiting for you, Herr Weillschmidt, to take you to the train station." She helps me out to the car, and I sit in the car and watch the buildings go by on the way to the train station. The driver hands me a train ticket.

"This is your ride." He drops the slip into my lap.

**1942, Ludwig.**

_And we'll be lying like lions out in the sands_

It's four in the morning, and I'm waiting for Schwartz to knock on my door. Sooner than later, the door opens, and I can hear the heavy click of military boots. I couldn't sleep last night; for the first time in three years, the smell of burning flesh made me throw up. I've lost the want to eat; who could? Schwartz motions for me to follow him outside, and as he walks, I follow towards the Appellplatz, roll call. We stand in front of the rows of ten, with piles of the dead at our feet.

"So, word is going around that ihr Bruder is coming to Auschwitz, today." Schwartz mentions.

"Mein Bruder?" I've never been so happy. "Warten Sie, why is he coming here?"

"To be a guard, ha-ha." He pats my back.

"Ach," I look at my feet. "I can't wait to see him."

"Rumor goes that he's being sent here to give him a break; he's been injured and can't fight at the moment." He informs. "Look at that, roll call's over already. See you at dinner."

"Ja," I can't wait until noon. Maybe it's just me, but my excitement has me walking slightly faster than normal with a smile on my face as I walk into the factory. Amsel pats my shoulder.

"They're saying ihr Bruder's a war hero and is on his way here." He greets.

"I've heard that too." I agree.

"You must be excited." I nod. "However, no matter how excited you get, you need to crack down on these slackers!"

"Ja," I nervously agree.

"Well, you cover that half; I'll do this half." He instructs as he begins his rounds. I mindlessly walk my rounds until the afternoon break. During the break, I tap my foot in impatience. One minute before break is over, Schwartz walks up to me.

"Ihr Bruder is here; want to show him around?" He offers.

"Ja!" I realize my excited tone. "I m-mean if you would like that, Herr."

"He's in the building, your room." I walk towards the building, but it's hard to keep from running to the building. Bruder's _here_, and I can _see _him. When I get to the building, my feet run to my room, and there he is with a ridiculous cane. He jumps into my arms, as I shut the door. His lips are on mine, and I realize how much I've missed him. His hand slips under my jacket.

"Ich habe dich so sehr vermisst!" He leans against me for balance. "Lassen Sie uns ficken."

"Demanding," I joke as I slip off my jacket and untie my tie. He unbuttons my shirt as he kisses me; I rip open his jacket and pull his shirt over his head, screw the buttons. My shirt falls from my shoulders to the ground as he pulls me onto the bed on top of him. His arms wrap around my neck as our lips clash and tongues dance. His hands wander to my belt, unbuckle it, and pull it off in one swift moment, causing my pants to slip a bit; I kiss his collarbone, his chest, his navel, and slide his pants off.

"Did you lock the door?" He whispers into my ear.

"Ja," I slide his undergarments down to reveal his hardened length. I slowly make my way off the bed to my knees. I kiss the tip and slide my tongue down his length and then up again. His hips buck a little; my arm brushes the bandage on his thigh. I take his head in my mouth, rubbing the excess length with my hand. He gasps quietly; his hands run through my hair, causing it to fall out of place. I slowly take in more and more of his length, until he hits the back of my throat. My gag reflex argues with my intentions when he hits the back of my throat again, so instinctively I pull away... "Entschuldigung."

"It's fine, ke-se-se-se; it's been years since we've – unless you –" He looks at his hands.

"Nein, I would never do that." I nuzzle his neck with my nose.

"Ich liebe dich." He flips me onto my back. "Now let me return the favor." He pulls my pants off along with my underwear. He's always been better at these things than I have... He takes me in his mouth once; the second time, I hit the back of his throat. His hands hold my hips down, teasing me. I have one hand over my mouth, and the other gripping the sheets. I had forgotten why I would sneak around committing this _insane_ sin with him, but now it was so obvious, again. I can feel an orgasm in the pit of my stomach, when he sadly pulls away to slip his finger into my ass. "So, I hear mein kleiner Bruder is the devil and beats people senseless." He whispers into my ear as he kisses me. His finger starts to pump in and out, and he adds a second. "I would have stood up for you, but that would have gotten you killed..." He buries his face in my shoulder as he adds a third finger; I clamp my hand over my mouth, if anyone were to hear...

"Stop teasing me..." I whine into his ear. He presses against my entrance.

"You asked for it." He sighs as he slowly but forcefully pushes his way into me. Ältere Brüder aren't supposed to be like this; hell, _we _aren't supposed to be like this. It feels right though; even though it's disgraceful or revolting, Ich liebe meinen Bruder. He moves, and I try my best to meet his pulse. He's always able to hit that _one _spot that drives me crazy. He gets faster, rougher; this is the result of a prolonged absence from each others lives. It's been years though, and before we know it, we're at our climax, seeing stars. We lie on my bed, entangled. Coming down from our sexual highs, we haven't been able to enjoy in years. I comfort him in my arms. "Scheiße, do you have any bandages?"

"Ja, warum?" I sit up and see his blood spreading from the white bandage down his porcelain toned leg. I jump up and find a roll of gauze out of my nightstand; he slowly takes off the bandage before I get onto dressing it again properly. "You were shot..."

"So were Fynn and Leon..." He falls silent.

"What happened to them?" I look at his thigh.

"They're gone." His voice wavers; they were his friends. He buries his face in my shoulder-blade, and I can feel his tears sliding across my skin. Once finished with dressing his wound, I cup his face in my hands and kiss him, wiping his tears from his ruby eyes.

_But I'll be dead, before you put a gun in my brother's hands_

Routine shifts back to normal within a few days; Bruder gets used to the revolting stench that hangs in the air. He patrols a different factory than I do, has a different room, works different groups, so I never see him, until one day. When a general by the name of Schafer pulled me out of roll call, he took my by the shoulder and muttered to himself about something 'unreasonable.' He takes me to a room, that I've never seen and hands me a handgun.

"Son, do you know what happens to saboteurs and those who commit treason?" He asks.

"Ja, Herr. They're shot for their crimes against our country." I answer.

"Good answer, now through this door is a treason ridden saboteur." He points at the wooden door in front of my face. "All you have to do is shoot the poor bastard dead, and if you don't, I'll shoot you in the door-frame."

"How hard could shooting a saboteur be?" I ask, nonchalantly.

"You tell me." He opens the door, and red eyes meet mine as he shoves me into the room. "Remember, Ludwig, if you don't kill him, you die instead."

"Bruder...?" Bruder looks at his feet; his hands are tied together.

"Ja, hallo." He jokes, waving his now conjoined hands.

"I'm not going to shoot you." I can't...

"You _have _to." His eyes cut through my excuses.

"Warum?" The gun falls from my hands.

"Because I won't let you die." He smiles morosely.

"But this is ridiculous!" He leans down to pick up the gun.

"I said 'bruderlein won't touch a gun, until I'm dead on the ground,' so here's the gun. The only thing left is to shoot me down."

"Nein!" I can feel the tears on my cheeks. He hands me the gun, but I refuse to take it.

"You _have _to, or I will _never_ forgive myself. I cannot and will not let you _die_." He kisses me, shoves the gun in my hand, turns off the safety, and forces my finger to push the trigger. An ear-splitting _CRACK_ is heard, and his eyes grow cold as his body drops to the ground. I try to stop the bleeding when the door opens.

"Glückwünsche, Ludwig Weillschmidt!" General Schafer pats my shoulder.

"Für was?" I bury my face in my hands, the hands that bear bruderlein's blood.

"Serving our country. That Schwein," he motions to Bruder, "was sabotaging us. Wouldn't let you in the war till he was dead, so we took care of that. Besides, he couldn't do Scheiße ha-ha."

"He wasn't nutzlos." My voice chokes on the tears.

"He was, but you, you're _perfect_." The tears aren't meant to stop. "Harden your heart and help your country end this ruthless war. Don't let ihr Bruder's death be in vain."

_Wake up and come out to the car_

_There's an east swell coming, and it's howling off shore_

Why did I take the offer to replace Bruder? Someone had to fight and return to unsere Eltern. Someone had to see this thing through till the end. Maybe the sick stench of fiery human flesh made me take the offer, but most likely, it was the note that Bruder left. _'Es tut mir leid, but after Fynn and Leon, I just don't think I can take war anymore. I know, I made a deal that I would stay on the field no matter what, but –'_ There wasn't an end to the note. I follow General Schafer into the car, into hell. My heart was no longer soft; it froze the moment that Bruder died by my ignorance. It's true; the war is no place for the kind heart-ed. However, I will kill whoever I have to just to make it home. This is what war is.

**1946, Ludwig.**

_And we'll be lying like lions out in the sands_

_But I'll be dead, before you put a gun in my brother's hands_

Making it through the war wasn't as hard as having to knock on that door because when they open it they'll learn that they lost one of their boys. I clench my hand in a fist, and it hovers next to the wood of the front door. I inhale and then, knock. The door opens, and Vati hugs me. His eyes are overflowing with joyous tears as he hugs me close; I hug him back and wait for the hardest thing. He looks over my shoulder for Bruder and freezes when he realizes that Bruder isn't coming home. His tears of delight become sobs of remorse for his first born son who gave his life for his country, even though the country stabbed him in the back. Mutti rushes down the stairs to find Vati and I at the table.

"Where's Gilbert?" She asks with a cheerful facade.

"Mutti, Gil–" Nothing needs to be said. The war disgraced the world, but not everyone had to experience the tragedy of losing a loved one. However, a great number of families lost someone in the past seven years, especially due to genocide committed in _those_ camps. It's hard to sleep because whenever I close my eyes I feel the blame from everyone for everything I've done, and the worst of them all is Bruder, reminding me that _I'm_ why he died...

_Bless your beautiful eyes  
And curse your God when your friends die_

**End.**

**A/N:** This is probably the only one-shot I've written that I _truly_ love because "Brothers" fits Prussia and Germany _so_ well. I hope you enjoyed it. Please Review.

~FromPrussiaWithLove.


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